All the Dark Corners

by Emerald O'Brien

  I laugh like a hyena. “I would hardly call her innocent. Sleeping with my dad behind your back? Keeping the fact that you killed him a secret? What do you call that? A good wife, I guess, right?”

  “The affair was a long time ago,” he says, holding his hands up. “And we’ve gotten past it.”

  “A year!” I scream. “It’s been a year!”

  “No! No, they were together over twenty years ago! We weren’t even married yet!”

  I shake my head. “You’re a liar, and the more you talk, the more chances I give you to do what you’re good at. My dad doesn’t get anymore chances. Neither do you.”

  I press my finger against the trigger, trying to keep my hands from shaking as I aim for his chest. I can’t miss.

  Staring into the eyes of my dad’s killer, I can’t squeeze the trigger.

  “Admit it!” I scream. “Just admit you killed my Dad!”

  I know he did it.

  If he won’t admit it, it doesn’t matter.

  But it does. It does, or I’d be able to shoot him right now.

  “Please just let Eve go,” he says, and I point the gun at Eve, then back at him.

  My mom didn’t have to watch my dad die, but she didn’t get the chance to say goodbye, either. Neither did I. He took that from us.

  My hands tremble as I take a step forward and aim the gun at his chest.

  His chin quivers as he turns to Eve and mouths, “I’m sorry.”

  He closes his eyes, tears falling down his cheeks, and he stands there, waiting.

  He’s ready to die, but after that, what?

  It won’t bring Dad back. It won’t bring me peace.

  He opens one eye and then the other with a confused expression as he stares at me.

  “She doesn’t remember,” Eve mutters, trembling in the corner. I check my peripheral again, and she’s still rocking back and forth in the chair.

  “Remember what?” I ask.

  “T-That night… In your backyard…” her voice shakes, “t-the night your parents—t-they all—”

  She sobs, and if she’s still talking, I can’t hear the rest. “What is she saying?!”

  “It’s good you don’t remember,” Lawrence says. “I’ve wondered about you and Will. If you knew what was happening, or if you were both too young to process it. I hoped you didn’t know. A child shouldn’t have to witness that.”

  “Witness what?”

  “Your dad and Eve were getting together; you’re right. They were sleeping together behind my back and your mom’s. Your mom must have found out somehow. I don’t know what happened in between that and that night. It never made sense to me how she’d want Eve to pay, but not your dad…or maybe she punished him in other ways, but nothing like what happened October thirteenth, twenty-two years ago.”

  I shake my head. I can’t stand his lies, trying to talk his way out of this, but I can’t pull the trigger.

  “Your dad invited us over for a barbeque. I had no idea what was going on, and so we went. All your neighbors were there, most three sheets to the wind by the time we arrived. It was late, and—and I knew something was wrong when your dad got handsy with Eve. He made it seem playful at first but then—”

  “No,” Eve whispers through her cries, “please don’t talk about it anymore.”

  “I’m sorry, baby, but she needs to know the truth. He grabbed her by her hair and yanked her toward the back field. I shouted at him and started to go after them, but Toothy Talbot grabbed me and held me at a distance. The women huddled up, whispering and looking on as your dad pushed Eve down on her knees and,” he swallows hard, grimacing, “your mom smacked her across the face. She called her a slut and a whore, and that’s when your dad told me…” He shook his head, staring at the floor. “That he’d been screwing her.”

  Eve’s sobs grow into wails, and my sweaty palms slide down the handle. I get my grip back, aiming the gun at him as he steps toward Eve, reaching his arms out to her like Stacy did to me and wrapping her up in them.

  “And then,” he says, turning his head to look at me, “I realized he was holding a steak knife.”

  She cries into his chest as he whispers to her.

  “Get up!” I shout, wiping my wet cheeks.

  I’m crying. I didn’t know I was crying.

  The gun shakes in my hand as he lets her go, and she turns toward me, revealing her red face.

  And the scar.

  “He said they were going to teach me a lesson,” she weeps, “and that Lawrence should w-watch.”

  I shake my head as Lawrence grabs her hand, his red knuckles fading to white.

  “You said I was there. I’d remember.” I would have been six. Maybe seven. I’d remember this.

  “He handed the knife to your mom, but she pushed it away and told him to do it. T-to prove his love.” Eve bends over, holding her stomach, rocking back and forth again.

  “He called to you. Wanted you to watch.” Lawrence’s voice shakes as he looks me in the eye.

  Turn around, Sammy.

  A vision of a small crowd flashes before my eyes, and I’m transported to the cold night in the back yard. I’m so cold, I’m shaking.

  Everyone’s yelling; a man is screaming, and Will runs from the swing set into the house. I follow him, but my dad calls to me in his hoarse voice—even back then I knew that meant he was drunk.

  “Sammy! Hey, you, wait. I want to teach you somethin’, Sammy. I don’t want my daughter turning into a whore like thisun’.”

  I freeze, shaking. Will’s almost reached the door to his house, and I’m left behind.

  “Turn around, Sammy!” he shouts, and I do.

  My stomach twists, and my vision is blurred, or maybe it’s my memory, but I can’t recall exactly what he said after that. I picture him jabbing the knife at the woman on her knees and slicing it along her cheek.

  I’m shaking. I’m screaming, and it echoes in the kitchen of the people my parents tortured.

  I lower the gun and Lawrence hugs Eve again.

  “He said your name,” I say, and my voice shakes like theirs. “Your name was the last thing he said before he died.”

  They aren’t paying attention to me anymore, but I can’t wrap my mind around it.

  “And the note…”

  Lawrence stands. “I don’t know what you’ve been told, but I never hurt your—”

  “Why do you drive by the house?”

  He shakes his head, his lips pressed together.

  “It’s not just the scrapyard, is it?”

  His face twitches. “No, I guess it’s not.”

  “Lawrence,” Eve whimpers. “You promised you’d never…”

  He stares just past me. “I want them to hurt for hurting you,” he mutters. “For doing that to us. I should have protected you.”

  “The night my dad was murdered, he came here.”

  They both look at me in confusion.

  “No,” Eve says. “He’s never been here.”

  “But Ted saw him.”

  “No.” Lawrence steps in front of Eve. “Please put the gun away now.”

  “The note. You wrote it,” I say. “You had to.”

  He shakes his head. “I was at The Crooked Crow the night your dad died. Everyone saw me there. Good old drunk that I am, I had a rock solid alibi. Eve, too. She had to bring me home. That’s why the police left me alone, but it didn’t stop your parents’ friends from having another go at me.”

  The town drunk. And this is why.

  But the note. If he didn’t write it…

  My mom sent me upstairs to pack for her. To look for the ring. But maybe she wanted me to find the note. Saliva pools in my mouth. I’m going to be sick.

  Lawrence looks down at Eve. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to do anything…”

  I can’t listen to this anymore. I can’t be here. I run out the front door, into the street and the cool air hits me all at once.

  My mom wanted me to find the note. She wa
nted me to come back home and take care of Lawrence. She knew I’d do this. That’s why she stalled about leaving.

  I’m back in the car, twisting the key in the ignition.

  I need answers.

  With the gun in my lap, I press the gas pedal to the floor.

  I’m going home one last time.

  I grab the cold metal knob to the front door of my childhood home. It jolts me back to reality.

  A car’s engine rumbles from the end of Cherry Street, and I squint toward the setting sun as the Hutchings’ car turns into their driveway. Ted and Mitsy get out of the front, and Will gets out the back. He spots me and smiles.

  I attempt to smile, watching Will scoop Stacy up in his arms.

  The one bright spot in Crimson Falls. The only good thing that has happened since I came back—not because of me—but it happened. Stacy is back.

  Ted and Mitsy wave to me before walking up their porch steps to the door, but Will walks across the front lawn with Stacy in his arms.

  I’m frozen somewhere in between all the feelings I’ve never felt, sober and dizzy from everything that happened. Will happen.

  “Here, Bunny, I’m going to let you down, okay?” Will asks.

  Her feet touch the ground, and she runs and grabs my leg, squeezing it.

  I smile up at Will, and he’s beaming. His beautiful face. Those piercing green eyes. Would they remember what happened in the backyard that night in October when we were Stacy’s age?

  “She’s not talking,” Will says as I pat Stacy’s back to soothe her. Remind her that she’s safe with me. “A therapist told us she needs to spend the night at home, our home. She needs to go back to a place she feels safe.”

  She’ll never be safe here, Will.

  I want to say it, but I don’t want to ruin the moment. His victory in reuniting with Stacy. And she doesn’t need to see us fight, either.

  “Is she… physically alright?”

  He nods. “As far as they can tell.” He lowers his voice and leans in toward me. “The marks on her wrists are consistent with handcuffs. She was held like that, by her wrists, but there are no other injures or marks. The dress she was wearing is hers. We didn’t realize it was missing and it’s not what she went to bed in. She was wearing pajamas, and someone changed her.” He pressed his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

  “What do you think happened?” I whisper.

  His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he stares down at her. “All I want to do is find who did this and kill them. Just end them for what they did to her. The officer told me it’s common for children who are taken to be threatened by the person who took them. They tell them if they say a word about what happened to them, they’ll come back and kill their family. The officer and therapist both agreed it could take days—weeks until she feels comfortable and safe. I wish she’d talk to me…”

  “She will, in her own time.” I squeeze his arm and leave my hand there until he stops shaking his head. “I know you must feel helpless, Will, but you have her now. You won’t let anything happen to her, and she’ll see that—feel it—and then you’ll have the best chance at finding who did this to her.”

  He nods. “I’m going to just settle up some things with my parents. They’re going to watch Stacy full-time when I return to work, and we’ll have security cameras installed around the property.”

  “Where do you work?”

  He clears his throat. “Still at the shipping yard in the city.”

  “That’s a big commute.”

  He nods. “It’s the only place I’ll get paid enough to afford all the things she needs. Listen,” he runs his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit of his. “I’m really glad you were there to find her.”

  “Oh,” I shake my head, “it wasn’t really me who found her—”

  But it was a big coincidence…

  “I get it, but I’m glad she saw you.” He looks down at Stacy, still holding my pant leg, but examining my bandaged hand. “I think she remembers you.”

  “Yeah.” I tuck my hair behind my ear nervously. “Maybe.”

  In this moment, nothing would make me happier.

  “Besides me and my parents, there’s no one I’d rather be there for her in that moment than you, Sam.”

  As we stare into each other’s eyes, I wonder why it took so long to finally see him like this.

  “Will,” I whisper, trying to buffer the tension between us. Trying to work up the courage to push him away, as I’ve always done, one last time.

  “I’ve never stopped caring about you,” Will says. “Not since the time I told you how I felt that summer.”

  Heat rushes to my cheeks as his eyes search mine, and I want to tell him the same thing I told him that summer.

  That I didn’t feel the same.

  That I didn’t want to lose his friendship.

  This time, they would both be lies. There’s no friendship left to lose, and I’m more scared than ever because I feel the same way he does. The time and distance between us has put so much into perspective and I know for sure now, this is what happiness looks like. This is what love feels like.

  I press my lips together and stare at the concrete as Stacy reaches for my hand.

  “Oh, no. Don’t touch.” Will says, reaching down for her. “Sam’s got a boo-boo. Come on, we’ve gotta go.” He picks her up, and she wraps her arms around his neck, her eyes fluttering open and closed.

  Have I lost my chance?

  “I guess this is goodbye,” he says.

  I don’t know what’s about to happen, but I don’t want this to be goodbye. “You’ll be at your parents just a bit longer?”

  “Yeah, I plan on it for the next hour or so. Why?”

  I have to do this with Mom. Know the truth once and for all and confront her instead of running away. Then, I can tell him how I truly feel.

  I clear my throat. “I’d like to say a proper goodbye to you both this time.”

  He looks at Stacy before leaning in closer to me, whispering, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s already been through a lot.”

  I nod. “Right. Then can I see you before you go?”

  He presses his lips together and clears his throat. “Bye,” he says softly and carries Stacy back across the lawn.

  No second chances. How can I blame him? He doesn’t want to get hurt again, and I don’t deserve his trust after leaving them.

  I clear my throat and wipe the tears from my hot cheeks, watching Stacy leave my life for the last time.

  But she’s home, with Will again, and I can live with that as I turn back to my own harsh reality.

  I twist the knob and push the door open.

  “Sam? Oh, thank God.” She’s sitting on the living room couch with the blanket over her lap. “Where on earth did you go off to?”

  “Cut the act.” I walk into the room, stopping in front of her on the other side of the coffee table.

  She pulls her head back and frowns up at me. “Despite what you think Sam, I care about you.”

  “I went to Lawrence’s.”

  Her frown lines deepen as shadows from the tree out front dance across her face in the golden sunset, but she never blinks—just stares me down.

  “I know what you did, Mom. You left that note under the bed for me to find. You wanted me to believe Dad was threatened. And you know I went to Lawrence’s. I didn’t kill him like you wanted. He told me the truth about what happened in the backyard. You counted on me not remembering that.”

  “Ah, that. I was drunk. I barely remember it.”

  My whole body shakes, and I need the pills or alcohol to stop it. I can’t do this—not alone.

  I turn toward the stairs.

  “What happened?” she asks.

  I stop, my back turned to her. It’s easier this way. “Lawrence told me the truth. I know he didn’t kill Dad. I know you wrote the note, hid it so I’d find it—”

  “Took you long enough.”

  I s
wivel around, anger burning inside me. “So you thought, what? You’d let the blame and guilt build up inside me long enough that I’d try to redeem myself? Seek justice for Dad?”

  That’s what happened. Her plan worked. Almost.

  She takes a puff of her cigarette and stares out the window. “Lawrence has been driving by here every year, this week, since it all happened. The…incident in the backyard. I regretted it the next day, but we never spoke of it again. Every time I saw Eve walking around with that scar, I tried to make myself believe it served her right, but it didn’t. That was a mistake. But this? Calling you? I don’t regret it. You’re back here with us, where you belong. You brought Stacy home. We’ve welcomed you back with open arms, taking care of you when you were beaten…”

  She drones on, but I can’t listen. I’m trying to figure out just how much of all of this was planned.

  From the beginning, she wanted me to come home to kill Lawrence, not for killing Dad, but because he was threatening. Driving by all the time. She thought he was going to get revenge, once and for all for what they all did to him and Eve.

  What else did she do to keep me here? Did she send Perry after me to stop me from leaving? Could she be the one who took Stacy?

  It got me to stay. The search for her brought our community together…

  “… and since Cliff and Ted left him alive, something had to be done. He couldn’t just keep driving by here. Not after what he did to your dad.”

  “But he didn’t. He didn’t do anything! He wanted to, but he didn’t.”

  She shakes her head, and a rage boils inside me. “Tell the truth. Did you—did you kill Dad?”

  “What? No! I don’t know what Lawrence told you, but it was him. He wanted revenge for that night, and he got it. Then he took Stacy and—”

  “No, he didn’t! It was you! It was all you!”

  “What?”

  “You took Stacy. You sent Perry after me!”

  “No. I would never!”

  The night I came back, Mom knew I wouldn’t stay with her, so she did the one thing that would keep me here. Stacy was taken through the bedroom window, but she didn’t make a noise… Because my mom was the one who came to the window, coaxed her out, and took her… Where?